Disclaimer: Anything is fair game in this parody of alternative fan fiction, which was written round robin fashion by the lunatic fringe of the committee collectively known as Sally Budd. (Some of the members of this august group had the discretion and good taste to refrain from contributing. Those of us who did participate bear them no ill will and, in fact, wish we could be them when -- and if -- we grow up.)

Because our intent was to commit, in as humorous a fashion as possible, every faux pas to which fan fiction is prone, ALL the errors in grammar, punctuation, and spelling are deliberate. (That's our story, and we're sticking to it.) No outrageous metaphor was left unexplored. It's quite possible, in fact, that several new classics were invented. And no homophone or homograph was left unplumbed. Repeatedly. And with passion.

Should the resulting story tickle your fancy -- or anything else -- feel free to contact Sally Budd at <swollen_bud@yahoo.com> and tell us so. Repeatedly. And with passion.

And if it doesn't, then perhaps you should explore the Swollen Bud Awards at <http://www.beyonduber.com/swollenbuds/>, where the stories are certified by Sally Budd (aka the Swollen Bud Committee) to be 100% literate (mostly), well-crafted, AND finished. Either way: enjoy!

Warnings: Thar be foul language here -- and general (and alt!) raunchiness. This story also contains numerous instances of unsafe sexual practices. You should not try them at home, in a sordid restroom in a bar, in a national park, or anywhere else. In fact, if you find yourself duplicating any of the activities in this tale -- or even hankering to -- we recommend you seek professional help as soon as possible. Especially if it involves eight tiny reindeer, a big blue ox, and a cross-dressing Elvis impersonator.

Oh, and if you care anything about the continuing functionality of your keyboard -- do NOT consume liquids while reading this story. You have been warned.


By Sally Budd

Her emerald eyes meeting and catching the raven-haired policewoman's cool cerulean gaze, Gabrielle Amazone-Bart inhaled deeply. The creamy roundness of her firm love udders strained the fabric of her jacket to the bursting point, until with a sound like a gunshot, the buttons broke free and flew like bullets around the room, releasing Gabrielle's bouncy, perky, strawberry-tipped buxom balloons, which floated free like miniature Hindenburgs, but far less flammable.


Officer Xena Amphipodopolis, known to her friends as Alix-Jess, Conqueror of her domain, and all new recruits at Miami's crime-ridden police department, drew in a deep breath, her nostrils flaring. God but her newest trainee was delicious. She could hardly stand it. The moments where she was not obsessing with her tormented, tortured past, hunting down her younger brother's murderers and redeeming herself generally were filled with a burning lust for her young, blonde, buxom partner.

Even though Xena was certain that her partner liked men (as evidenced by Gabrielle's engagement to the dull and stupid Peter Perdicus, the blonde's childhood sweetheart). And even though someone as sweet and stacked as Gabrielle could never love a hardened, unworthy, stoic cop like Xena. The raven-haired officer still enjoyed making the shorter woman blush.

Xena masterfully strode over to her partner. "Here, Gabrielle," she growled. "I really think you should conceal those," Xena's smile shifted into a leer, "deadly weapons."

Xena bent over and picked up a cocktail napkin from the bar, her electric blue orbs never leaving blonde's stunning attributes. She held it in front of Gabrielle's heaving, nubile breasts and arched a diabolically sexy eyebrow. "Here."


As emerald orbs tracked between the tiny napkin and her luscious balloons, Gabrielle's brow creased.

Guessing the problem, Xena reached for a second napkin. Then she paused, grinned, and threw both napkins away. Flexing her fingers meaningfully, she advanced on the little blonde, whose eyes widened in a mixture of disbelief and anticipation.

"You wouldn't!" squeaked Gabrielle.

A feral grin. "Wouldn't I?"

Then Xena was manhandling the mammoth mammaries back inside Gabrielle's button-bereft jacket, both women trying not to faint at the wonderful sensation. The finishing touch -- three industrial strength safety pins from Xena's capacious trenchcoat pockets (she never knew when handcuffs wouldn't be sufficient) -- and the jacket was fastened, the bobbing airships firmly anchored, the deadly weapons safely holstered once more.

"Oh," said Gabrielle, her disappointment evident.

"This bar is rather public." Xena turned to survey the crowd of grinning onlookers. "Perhaps we can continue this somewhere more ... private?"

"Oh!" said Gabrielle, in quite a different tone.


"Th... thank you, " the blonde nervously replied. God, how I want that woman, she thought, her voluptuous silicone-enhanced bosom heaving with desire.

I never should have agreed to marry Peter. He's such a nit. I want her! I want Xena. But she could never want me. I'm just a poor ex-farm girl, police academy type writer whose parents could never understand the desires I have for this woman who they consider to be the most wicked, evil, vile female to have ever lived even though she has been valiantly trying to redeem herself day by day in heroic acts which just make me love her more.

Gabrielle's brain took a deep breath, completely spent at thinking up one of the longest run-on sentences that she'd ever have to edit later in her journal.

Her look of desire was not wasted on the dark-haired cop. Hmmm... maybe there's more to her than meets the eye. Then she absent-mindedly rubbed her right eye, which was still red and puffy from the button incident a few minutes before.


While she wanted to lay her eye and a whole lot more on the rest of Gabrielle, Xena had to wonder if it was going to be worth the pain and agony.

Oh, the department wasn't a problem. If her boss were any more stupid, he'd have to be watered twice a week. And the dirt she had on Police Commissioner Callista Hardflock was enough to muzzle her in perpetuity -- and nourish several acres of hearty root crops besides.

The fact of the matter was that this sweet young thing had nearly blinded her three times (once with the button and two more times with those mouth-watering mounds of joy).

And that was just today.

Yesterday, during the riot control training, Gabrielle had gotten quite wild. Xena had no problem whatsoever with the idea of a lissome lass ringing her chimes -- but she preferred it NOT be done with a police baton. At least not one applied to that particular part of her anatomy.

She flushed angrily. It wasn't the concussion. She'd had those before. (This was #13 if she remembered rightly -- though that was becoming harder to do with each passing year.)

But the girl had shown her up. Had slipped inside her defenses...

She spluttered with wordless rage.

Had stripped her bare in front of the rest of the trainees and...

The image that this thought conjured in her fevered brain made her flush again, this time with admiration and arousal.


Unable to hold back her flaming desires another moment, Xena dragged her ready and willing partner into the restroom, nearly trampling a young woman in the process. The woman, a diesel dyke whose rap sheet was as long as her armpit hair, fled the latrine at the sight of midnight blue, vowing to go straight -- figuratively -- as soon as her probation was complete.

But, that's another story.

Gabrielle squealed in delight as those powerful arms wrapped about her compact frame and lifted her onto the counter. She squiggled happily, reveling in the taught, muscular body pressing against her own. Instinctively, her legs opened wide in invitation, wrapping about Xena's body in eagerness as she flexed thighs and calves, slamming the handsome dark woman's hips towards her center. Damn Peter! Why can't he ever make me feel this?

With the force of a battering ram, Xena was thrust against the redhead's... blonde's -- Which one IS it, anyway? -- sex. Circulation as neatly severed as a newborn babe's umbilical cord, the vivacious brunette slumped against her rookie-cum-future-lover, Gabrielle's buoyant breasts the only thing holding her up. Finding herself resting on those wonderful pillows of love, she inhaled deeply of the musky / musty aroma that was the younger woman.


Releasing the breath she didn't realize she was holding, Xena reached down into her ankle holster. Looking not for the extra gun she always carried on her, she rummaged around until she found the item she sought.

"Ah ha! Here it is!" she exclaimed into the ripe melons of titillation. The rookie was saucer-eyed and speechless as she saw what was retrieved.

Xena pulled out a square of clear latex. The blue-eyed cop took a step back, holding the square up to the light. Upon closer inspection, it was apparent the latex had been recently used. Xena held it up to her mouth and propelled her saliva onto it.

Holding it against her polyester pants, she rubbed the moisture off. Up and down... up and down. The erotic display excited Gabrielle beyond belief.

Grabbing Xena by the shoulders, she pulled the tall woman back to the warmth of her wetness. "Oh god… yes! Take me now!"

A feral grin spread on the raven-haired beauty's face, "Oh I intend to take you... " she accented by running the square up Gabrielle's leg. "I'm going to take you to places you have never been before."

She grabbed the back of the reddish blonde head and thrust their lips together. Breathless, they broke away, "I'm going to take you there, fast and hard." The now swollen lips met again, tongues fighting for dominance in the age old battle fought so many times before.


Xena couldn't believe the intensity that thrummed through her volcanic core. She only felt this way when her thighs of steel were wrapped around her police motorcycle, fondly nicknamed 'Argo'. She loved the way the powerful engine surged at her slightest touch.

As she pulled back and gazed into those viridian incandescent flames of desire, she could feel her carefully constructed barriers melt like a Popsicle on a hot day. A shutter coarsed through her already burning frame and she heard her own voice stutter, "f ... fi ... finger ... lick ... licking ... g ... good."

Damn her dyslexia. Her hard-won progress had been shattered when her lockermate found her carefully crafted cross-stitch epic poem of her dead brother. Oh she had grown stoic after the relentless teasing, building a name for herself as an ice queen ... cold, ruthless and hard-hearted.

But this petite minx saw right threw her brittle exterior and was now stoking a fire that could only be quenched one way, and it didn't involve Smokey the Bear. Her pink tongue snaked out, anxious to drink of the nectar those sweet full melons promised. Her fingers itched to caress every curve, valley and swell of the rookie panting breathlessly before her. A tiny voice whispered in her mind reminding her to reign in her pulsing desire, but she couldn't, no wouldn't, stop her conquest of the fertile land undulating before her. She fully intended to ravish every bit of Gabrielle and her tactical brain carefully mapped out her plan of battle.


Xena's blue, eyelash-fringed pools -- more Bahamas beachfront than chlorinated Motel 6 -- were sizzling with passion, like a T-bone steak on a gas grill stoked with napalm. Every breath she took forced her body closer and closer to Gabrielle's, until you couldn't have fitted the cable guy's hairy crack between them. The rookie's heart hammered like a demented Ricky Ricardo bongo solo, and she suppressed the urge to yell, "Babaloo!" out of sheer excitement.

The safety pins holding her jacket closed groaned beneath the strain, and finally with a rending tear that sounded embarrassingly like a fart in an elevator stuck on the 13th floor, parted company with the fabric. At the same time, her squirming thighs caused her skirt to roll up to her waist and Gabrielle found herself perched on the counter, bare ass cheeks flinching with contact to the cold tiled surface, but more out of a concern for possible germs than the actual temperature. They never kept bathrooms in bars very clean and who knew what you might catch, industrial strength Lysol notwithstanding?

Gabrielle flinched again when Xena let her questing fingers do the walking, and finally settled in the curls of her blonde-bearded juice dispenser. A sudden, desperate itch, rather like that of chicken pox or athlete's foot, sprang up in the rose-vaulted halls of her musk-oozing honeypot, and she squirmed some more.

Xena lowered her head and captured Gabrielle's lips more thoroughly than a bear trap, but considerably wetter, more pliant and with a lot less dangerously sharp pointy things. Xena's mouth traveled further down, nipping and licking, reminding Gabrielle of a chihuahua she'd had as a child, and she found herself hoping that the tall policewoman of her dreams wasn't as nervous or incontinent. Hesitantly, she began unfastening Xena's shirt, and finally the raven-haired beauty's delectable yet firm cherry-topped cantelope cushions burst free of their confines, proving that Xena could pass the pencil test, and how!


"Holy hot damn! It's about FUCKIN' time!" Janice roared, jumping down off the toilette seat. This guardian angel shit sucked! But as soon as Gabrielle and Xe... err.. Alix... . errr... the tall chick whose ass looked great in cop pants, screamed out in mutual ecstasy, she and Mel would be released from their servitude.

"Must you be so crass, Janice?" Mel muttered from behind the paper towell covering her eyes.

"Aww... C'mon, Mel," Janice whined, pushing her fedora up a little higher on her forehead. "It's not like they can hear us. Besides, you're missing all the good stuff!"

"You mean Gabrielle's breasts?" Mel peeked around the paper towell and adjusted her glasses, gazing appreciatively at Gabrielle's mind-blowing cha chas. Those weeks of whispering 'silicon', 'Alex-Jess loves silicon' in the blonde's ear every night had really paid off.

"No!" Janice groused, even as she stared at those bodeatious tittangas, covered in Xena drool.

"They're soulmates! Soulmates don't hump like hamsters in a public restroom!"

"Well, baby, you may not find the smell of week-old piss attractive. But they don't seem to mind." Janice gestured toward the writhing, moaning, mostly naked women.

Gabrielle grunted loudly and grabbed Xena by the hair, burying Xena's face in her monumental, mouthwatering, mounds of mayhem. Xena let out a muffled cry of pleasure.

Janice whipped out a cigar and match, grinning broadly. This was it. At last! But just as Gabrielle's grunts deepened and the young cop trainee tilted her head back to scream out her release, something beyond horrible happened!


The restroom door slammed open with a thunderous bang and in strode the mighty figure of Sgt. Betta D. Reeder. Her steely eyes boring straight into the very essence of the two, now hopelessly entangled in a pretzel knot of arms, legs, bobbing balloons and luscious moons of Aphrodite. Betta, less fondly known as 'Grammah' by the trainees, was known for her no-nonsense attitude. The two before her quickly developed the deer-in-the-headlight look, and a slow smile graced the edges of Sgt. Reeder's thin lips.

"Just what in the name of the good Graces is causing all the wounded buffalo sounds in here!?" Two heads drooped down to their navels ... well each other's navels.

"What I see is clearly a violation of Strunk and White's Elements of Style. Have you no sense of romance? Going at it like crazed weasels clearly is in direct contradiction to the PWP-12-04.135 rule for hot monkey sex in a decent setting. Where's the hot tub, candles, moonlight, rhythmic waves, wine, dipping chocolate, sweetmeats ... anything that doesn't make this look like a teenager's hard-on wet dream? I'm ashamed of you Xena Alix-Jamie ... errr ... . Jessie ... ahhh ... . whatever. Graduating with top honors in your class. [sigh] I had high hopes for you ... how the mighty have fallen," she rasped out. Two sweaty heads were now down to the level of kneecaps.

"S'rry" was mumbled virtually incoherently by the raven haired tough-as-nails-now-chastened-like-a-five-year-old officer. She hated disappointing her surrogate Madonna figure. It was Betta that had helped her control her dreaded dyslexia.

Gabrielle merely blinked her sea green orbs slowly, astounded by the fury radiating from the imposing commander. Damn! Just when we were getting to the good part. A tiny part of her was beginning to build a bonfire of anger. I didn't wear this two-sizes-too-small jacket for the pleasure of it ... well at least not in a fashion sense. She knew that her desire for the statuesque-venus-de milo form of Xena had driven her libido to reach out and touch someone ... and that someone was the beauty whose hand was inches from making her a very happy woman. Suddenly, malicious inspiration struck the sometimes writer, "We were merely choreographing a take down scenario for nude exotic dancers and Xena was showing me the proper hold for sweat-slicked bodies."

Sgt. Reeder's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but before she could reply her head whipped around to the stalls. She swore she heard the snick of a whip and a faint 'you are so crass'. In two licks of a cat's tail she had thoroughly checked out both stalls ... nothing. She turned her formidable presence back to the pair who had managed to untangle body parts. Just as she was about to carry out her version of the Spanish Inquisition her radio crackled to life.

"Sgt. Reeder we have a code 711 in progress." Aha ... cliffhangers are at it again. She hated those malcontents that delighted in stirring up frustrations to the level that frenzied mobs stampeded the byways in search of another fix. Clearing her throat she told them, "Carry on." With a quick turn of her heal she exited the rest room leaving a highly charged sexual tension crackling in the rank air filled with the undeniable scent of eau du musk.

The two officers looked at each other and shrugged.


"Orders are orders," murmured Xena dutifully, preparing to carry on, though perhaps not in the manner the sergeant had intended.

Before she could udder another word, however, Gabrielle grabbed her by her coral pink aural receptors and slammed the officer's face hard against her trembling, steaming, oozing, pulsing blonde core. Ignoring the muffled "Uff da!" which arose from between her quivering flanks and the glacial cold of the countertop on which she was perched, Gabrielle leaned back against the fly-specked mirror and thought of -- Yellowstone. The sulfurous aroma of the restroom lent a wonderful verisimilitude to her recurring fantasy about being ravished in the nation's first national park.

Gabrielle knew that her fiancé Peter Perdicus believed she was referring to him when, during the throws of passion, she screamed out the name "Old Faithful." Little did he know that she was reliving one of the cataclysmic moments of her childhood, the day she saw her first thermal feature. The day she first felt the earth move.

Just thinking about it made Gabrielle shake and gush like Giantess Geyser. Water from that mighty fountain has been known to shoot as high as 200 feet (60 m.) in the air. On the other hand, she recalled regretfully, it erupts infrequently, only two to six times a year.

Old Faithful on the other hand! The eruptions there occurs every 85 minutes on average, shoot up 184 feet (55 m.) -- and last 1 1/2 to five minutes!

Gabrielle felt her pool filling to overflowing as she contemplated nature's thermal bounty. Sensed the pressure building within her own molten mound. Nurtured the incipient tremors that she prayed would lead -- as they had on those three occasions that Peter had unexpectedly managed to trigger them -- to a climax of explosive proportions.

"Just. A. Little. More. Baby!" she panted, and Xena leaned into her task, eager to give the buxom babe a glimpse of the Elysian Fields and then treat herself to a deep breath and another beer.

They were close, Gabrielle could tell. She could feel the vibrations in her bones, could almost hear them. "So. Close."

And then, with a groan that seemed to be drawn from the very depths of the earth, the countertop and sink ripped away from the restroom wall, shattering the water pipes and releasing a fountain that showered the two women in excruciatingly cold water. Together they fell not over the edge, but down, down, down -- to a floor that appeared to have been last mopped about the time the earth's crust cooled.


In the stall, her muffled laughter got Janice poked in the back. "Janice!"

"WHAAAAT?" Janice gave Melinda an evil, yet guilty grin.

"Some guardian angel you are! Look at that! Those poor dears!"

"Look at THIS!" Janice held a large bolt up for Melinda's inspection, smiling triumphantly before collapsing in laughter against her companion.

"You are an incorrigible Yankee, that's what you are!" Melinda crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip.

"Aww... c'mon, Mel! It was getting too hot and heavy over there! And I was getting, y'know?"

"Yes, I know. You're always that way!"

"But it's not fair. I can get horny but I can't do anything about it. I decided that if I don't get any, NO ONE gets any!"

"Uh, Janice... don't you remember, hon? As soon as the two of them get off, so do we?"

"Ooops... .I forgot! Watching those two fantasize about each other while they did everyone else BUT each other was driving me crazy. I forgot that this time, I was SUPPOSED to let them finish."

Melinda sighed. "Well, you blew it, love. Look at them. They're wet and slippery, but not the way they need to be. Dammit, Janice!"

"Melinda! I've never heard you cuss before!"

"Honey, you aren't the only guardian angel who ain't been gettin' any!"

"You mean... ?"

"I mean, Miss Janice HowInTheWorldDidYouEndUpAGuardianAngel Covington, as soon as our assignment with these two descendents of Xena and Gabrielle are hooked up properly, you and I are in for a little cuddle time."

Janice's eyes lit up at the sound of those words. Ever since they'd died, she'd been waiting for her chance to take that southern belle and ring her chimes again. But first, they had had to watch the two cops grow up, find each other, and discover their attraction to each other.

She eyed the tall, dark-haired phantom that was looking at her like Janice was a ten-course meal and Mel was a starving woman. She allowed her eyes to roam over her shapely figure and imagined being served up to Melinda on a huge platter.

"Oh yeah... baby! Eat me!" she groaned in anticipation. Janice was completely lost in her daydream of the sexual smorgasbord the two of them would soon be sharing. Just then, the bathroom door slammed.


"Hmm... oh, yeah, darlin' just a little lower!"


"Yes, love, that's it, scream my name, honey!"

"Janice Covington!"


"Aw, nuts! said Janice, glaring at the glowing golden figure gliding towards them on elegant wings.

"What?" Mel blinked shortsightedly. All she could see was a golden blur.

"It's the boss."

"You haven't quite got the hang of this Guardian Angel stuff yet, you two, have you?" said Angel Callisto benevolently.

She drifted over to the partially clothed policewomen, who were lying unconscious in a pool of water surrounded by the wreckage of sinks and pipework and tiles.

"You were supposed to let these 'soulmates' bond in a *loving* way. This -- " she curled her lip (but even that was benevolent) "is not about love. This -- " she gestured, and golden motes of light danced from her fingertips -- "is a sordid shag in the bathroom!"

"Works for me," growled Janice. "Ow!" She rubbed her arm and glared at Mel who glared back.

"Love is -- " Angel Callisto paused, " -- a stranger in an open car. Hang on a minute ... that's not it." She frowned benevolently then beamed. "Love is: Never having to say you're sorry!"

"I preferred the first one," said Janice. "Ouch!" She rubbed her ankle and looked at Mel. "Will you stop that?"

Callisto floated benevolently back towards the two watching Guardian Angels. "But I know it's not really your fault."

Janice moved protectively in front of Mel. "Don't let her touch you," she hissed. "We don't want any more kids!"

"Oh, I don't know," said Mel, wistfully.

"We just want sex, and lots of it!" added the feisty blonde.

Callisto gazed benevolently at them, "And that is why I'm reassigning you to guard another pair of soulmates: Armenestra and Shakti."

Janice scowled. "Not that ancient Mother of Peace and that skinny little boy?"

Callisto nodded. "They are currently working their way through the Kama Sutra, so you should get plenty of 'satisfaction' guarding them."

Janice's scowl cleared. "Oh. OK." She grabbed Mel's hand and squeezed it. "Nookie ahead, Mel!"

"Oooh!" Mel gave an excited squeal.

Angel Callisto smiled and gestured once more. And when the whirling golden motes had cleared, their was no sign of Janice and Mel. She nodded her head in satisfaction, then drifted over to the two unconscious cops.

"Now what shall I do with you?" she said. "Transport you to somewhere more romantic, obviously. And heal your wounds." She put her finger to her lips and frowned thoughtfully but benevolently. Then her face cleared. "I know just the place!"


"Ow... what the hell?" Xena's hand caressed the back of her neck after waking up on the cold, wooden floor she suddenly found herself on. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, unsure of where she was. She glanced around the rustic, dark room. Although it seemed vaguely familiar, she knew she had never been here before in her life.

"How the hell did I get here?" Suddenly, she heard a moan from another room. Instinctively reaching to her hip for her weapon, Xena found her gun wasn't in place. She looked down to see where it could be and that is when she noticed she was not even wearing her utility belt or her uniform any longer. In place of the police attire, she was now clad in tight black leather pants and a matching black leather bra and nothing else.

Standing to her full 5 feet 11 inches of height, she listened with her super-sensitive hearing to determine from where the moaning was coming.

"There it is again, " Xena whispered to herself. Preparing herself for the unknown, she grabbed a log from atop the stack next to the roaring fireplace and tiptoed quietly toward the noise. Pressing her back alongside the rough wall, she soon realized something they did not teach in the police academy.

When you are clad in only a bra, do not press yourself directly against the log cabin wall.

Now about an inch from the splinter-filled wood, she found herself at the first of three doors. Poking her head around, she tried to assess the danger level before proceeding. She let out a low whistle when she saw the contents of the enormous chamber. A hot tub, jacuzzi bath, and a shower obviously built for two filled the room. "Hmmm, two toilets too, weird," she thought to herself before moving on.

As she eased along the next partition, Xena noticed the moaning was getting louder. It was definitely a woman's voice. Actually, it was getting louder and more erotic sounding. Xena peeked around the doorway to find a bedroom. A huge bedroom with a king-sized four poster bed as the centerpiece. See through gauze-like material hung from the posts preventing a clear view of the person who was so obviously enjoying her stay on the bed. "She must be dreaming," Xena thought to herself, noticing only the lone woman.

Xena ambled closer to the figure. The sounds coming from her were like a straight shot of liquid fire to Xena's womanhood. Then the moaning subsided and the talking started. "Not the fist, dork," the laying figure said, causing Xena to drop the log she carried on her bare foot.

Hopping up and down on one foot and holding her injured toes trying to get the pain to subside, she bounced right on a nail sticking out of the wooden floor. "Shit!" she exclaimed, quickly covering her mouth before she fell onto the bed.

Xena looked at the lump of lusciousness lying next to her and realized the nubile form was naked and still asleep. The next moan she heard was one coming out of her own mouth. Passion soon coursed through her body as she took in the sight of the nectar filled girl hole and the mountain-like mammary glands. Smacking her lips, Xena, with much effort, moved her half-lidded blue eyes from the perfectly formed nipples to see who this child of Aphrodite might be.

A swift intake of air was heard as she saw the face for the first time. "Gabrielle! It's you!" Xena exclaimed....


Gabrielle was dreaming. Picturing herself in a boat on a river, with tangerine trees and marmalade skies. Somebody calls her; she answers quite slowly. A girl with kaleidoscope eyes... and big mazumas like flesh-colored beach balls, legs that went all the way up to her neck, an ass you could suck on for a day, and personal topiary trimmed into the shape of a Smith & Wesson .45. It was like being in a Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band video as directed by Long Dong Silver and Sappho, starring the whole lesbian Greek chorus who were apparently all cloned from the same woman with black hair and sizzling blue eyes.

Someone was shouting her name... still in the throes of sexual hallucination, Gabrielle muttered, "Oh, muff daddy, take me now! Hit me with your rhythm stick!"

Xena's eyebrows shot so far up her forehead they were in danger of launching into orbit. She traced a finger from Gabrielle's twin love balloons down to the cluster of blonde frizz that guarded her sweet cha-cha, and knocked lightly on the fuzzy lips. "Avon calling." When there was no response, she went into cop mode and snarled, "I gotta warrant! Open up or I'll ram the door down!"

Gabrielle sighed, opened her eyes, and reached out to welcome the lover of her dreams.


"Come on, Smokey. Light my fire!" Gabrielle husked. (To other ears, it might have sounded as if she were coughing up a hairball rather than issuing a call for an act of conflagration. To the aching Amazon beside her, however, her strangled words sounded sweeter than a choir of angles.)

Xena groaned, a shutter running through her as she tried to rain in her passion. The setting was less than ideal. The sheets were clean, the windows looked out upon pristine wilderness rather than a rubble-strewn alley, and there was a disturbing fresh lemony smell in the air.

But dammit, the time had come! With a savage growl, she leapt into the air, executing four somersaults and a half twist (degree of difficulty 3.8) before coming to rest beside the amazed, astounded, and very aroused rookie.

"Let the Games begin!"


Xena smirks and raises her left eyebrow. Yes that's it. The left one. That's the one for smirking, and the right one is for crazed, warlord cop mode when she shouts: "KILL THEM ALL!!!" And then has to be reminded that "Kill them all" is not an acceptable substitute for "You have the right to remain silent."

So the left one is hovering in the air, waiting to find out why it's there while the mouth continues to smirk. Ah! Yes! The Olympic references. Okay…

So, Xena smirks, does that left eye-brow thingy and then says to Gabrielle: "Okay, first event -- Synchronized Swimming!" As Gabrielle's eyes go wide in anticipation, so do her legs, and Xena does what any self-respecting Synchronized Swimmer does to warm up. She dives right in and starts doing laps.

Gabrielle, now nicely warmed up, positions herself so that she and Xena are both "synchronized," both bodies executing the same movements simultaneously. As their performance nears it's climax, they are once more interrupted.

"Now would be an especially good time for the 'Kill them all!' thing, doncha think?" Gabrielle husks as she tries her best to concentrate on the task at hand… or tongue… whatever.

"The idiots making the noise outside this room?" Xena asks, her voice muffled due to trying to talk with her mouth full.

"No. The writers of this story!"


"Yeah… whatever… let me finish dessert first," mumbled Xena as she desperately tried to nip the cherry in her Gabrielle sundae.

Whether it was Gabrielle boxing Xena's sensitive ears with her remarkably strong thighs or the bellow that came from outside… Xena sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window she flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. When, what to her wondering eyes should appear: a moose, flying squirrel and eight tiny reindeer… Chasing a large blue ox.

'Oh Oh,' thought Xena. 'This is definitely not normal. My brain cells are in revolt.' Before she could begin a full mental assessment, what was left of her rational mind registered strange wailing behind her. Spinning around, she was confronted by a most peculiar site.

Gabrielle, dressed in a rhinestone-studded white jumpsuit, complete with a red scarf hanging around her neck, was whirling a burning brand while singing "I'm a hunka hunka burning love."

Xena immediately screwed shut her eyes. 'It must've been that corn dog I had for lunch.' She carefully opened one eye only to be greeted with an image of Gabrielle in a pink harem costume, including veil, gyrating her belly button in a most alluring pattern while gushing "What is your wish, Master."

Slamming her cerulean orbs shut with a clang, Xena reflected 'I gotta stop eating those jalapeno chili fries.' She drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out before cracking her eyes into narrow slits. What she saw made her eyes bug out of her head like a cartoon character.

Gabrielle now had two pigtails, was carrying a basket and wearing a white blouse with gingham jumper that barely covered her delectable ass. As Xena's jaw hit the floor, Gabrielle lifted up the hem and pointing to the apex of her legs crooned, "Follow the yellow brick road."

Xena's hands covered her eyes, as she shook her head in utter disbelief. 'I am definitely not in Kansas anymore.' Vainly wiping her eyes, those ultra-sensitive ears felt Gabrielle's breath as she whispered, "Dahlink, you haf been verrrry naughty."

Xena-Jess-Alix's eyes flew open when the slither of a soft, leather, riding crop caressed her neck at her 'hubba hubba' pulse point. Gabrielle was now in a slinky black leather mini-dress, and her full ruby red lips were pursed in a pout. "Great balls of fire, there was more to my frosted flakes than sugar coating… I'm tripping!" With that, Xena let out a tremendous "Ayi yiii yiii", flipped over the wanton apparition and raced to the front door of the cabin.

She flung open the door and gulped in huge quantities of crisp woodland air, hoping to cleanse her muddled noggin. The sounds of fainting wildlife thudding to the forest floor failed to register on the nekkid amazon goddess…

But the softly spoken "Looocy, you got some 'splaining to do" did indeed elicit a gasp from Xena.

Twirling on her heal, she found an enticingly nude Gabrielle sprawled out on a bearskin rug before a blazing fire. The golden hue of the flames caressed the rookie's body like honey dripping from a comb. Xena's stomach rumbled while she swore a flashing neon sign appeared above Gabrielle proclaiming 'EATS'. Gabrielle was writhing her bounteous backside against the fur and murmuring "I have an itch that needs a scratch."

At this point, Xena decided oxygen-starved delusion or not… she was going to plant her flag on top of Gabrielle's mount. Seeing her police utility belt lying on a nearby table, she quickly did a MacGyver and constructed a magnificent hard-on using handcuffs, her nightstick and an AA battery. She was now dressed for bear. Striding over to the nubile rookie gasping upon the fur, she planted her feet in a wide stance, cocked her proud appendage and proclaimed…


"And now for something completely different!"

Xena thrust forward vigorously and…

"HOLD IT! Stop this NONSENSE! Right this minute!"

A bespectacled prat enters into the scene, shooing the characters to one side with an imperious gesture. He turns to face the readers.

"On behalf of the management, I would like to apologize for the outrageous behavior of our hackneyed-Charlie's Angel-reject writers from Aaron Spelling productions. They were supposed to write a little tongue-in-cheek witty titillation."

Sighing, he shakes his head sadly and raises a hand holding a sheaf of papers.

"Complaints have poured in from all the TV/Radio doctors, the IOC, the International Policeman's Union, SPCA, NPA, the Writer's Guild, the Bush 2000 campaign, the cast of 'Touched by an Angel' and… well, the list is too lengthy to recite. In an effort to salvage this production, we are in the process of bringing onboard an entirely new writing staff.

"In the meantime, my very talented 10-year-old niece has contributed an interlude to keep you occupied until the new writer has finished typing up a suitable conclusion."


Gabrielle grabbed Xena's hand and pulled her friend into a run. "C'mon, we're gonna be late for the concert and I SOOO am looking forward to the Backstreet Boys."

The pair were dressed in matching cropped white tank tops and hip-riding black, stretch denim jeans. Xena had told Gabrielle that their SuperGlued bellybutton piercings could be removed with a bit of nail polish remover… At least she hoped so.

" I tell ya, Xena-Alix, looking like Britney Spears will draw Justin's attention to us. This will work, you'll see."

Xena didn't really care. She was just wishing that her bestest friend in the whole wide world would smile at her and that her eyes would go gooey just like when she spoke about Justin-the-doofus. Like that would ever happen! Sighing, she changed the subject, "Gabs, everyone stands at these things and you're… Well,,, kinda short."

Gabrielle pulled up and rounded on her friend with a knowing smile. "That's why you're along… Stretch."

Xena groaned. "I'm the ladder again… aren't I?"

"Yep," replied the blonde as she marched forward.

After the ear-numbing concert ended the two walked hand-in-hand out of the stadium. Gabrielle was babbling on and on -- and on -- about how cute 'The Boys' were. Xena just rubbed her aching neck. She knew that whatever Gabrielle wanted, she'd give it, 'cause they were the bestest of friends and had even sealed it with a spit handshake. They would always be friends, even if Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync posters were posted all over Gabrielle's walls and Gabrielle kept a picture of Justin under her pillow. She was happy just to sleep over at her bestest friend's house, though she was kind of worried because Gabby's mom was talking about buying a guest bed, which would mean they couldn't...



The bespectacled man reappears and, looking to his right, intones:

"Very nice, Danielle, but your mother wants to have one of those chats with you now… so run along."

Turning towards the readers, he smiles benevolently.

"Well, I bet you're anxious as all get-out to hear a truly scintillating end to this story… one that will warm the cockles of your romantic hearts."

Nodding his head yes, he pulls out a piece of paper from his suit pocket. "Ahhh, I'll have to read 'The Ending' to you -- since we are a tad over budget. That and the characters refused to perform the new writer's material."

The sound of people retching and the word "Booorrrrrinnng" echoes from the wings.

Clearing his throat, the man begins: "And so drawing back from their co-joined hug, the two soulmates once again affirmed their undying platonic love for each other. Pledging once again to follow their path together and provide that emotional backup that officers need not only in their professional lives, but personal ones as well. They knew that for them the simple fact that their love existed was enough, nothing more was needed to sustain the warmth that glowed within their…


The prat gargles obscenely as Xena grasps him by his scrawny neck and roughly tosses him off stage to her waiting partner.

"Hurry up, Gabrielle; there's only one more sheet of paper."

"Yea yea… just a minute. These upperclass twits are stronger than they look. One more piece of duct tape and…" Skriiiitch. "There. Got it."

Xena opens her arm and welcomes the petite blond officer to center stage. Rising on her toes, Gabrielle plants a lip-lock on Xena that definitely registers on the Richter scale. After several searing moments, the two part, still gazing into each other's eyes.

Cocking her head to the side, Gabrielle speaks.

"The fact is… we are truly, madly and deeply in love with each other. Now, we could ask the wannabards to give you one heckofa fireworks display here… but… we're pretty sure that YOUR imagination is considerably more inventive than any scenario these idiots could cook up. We know OURS are, right, Xena?"

"You betcha," responds the normally taciturn Xena, rising to the occasion. "Let's face it. You look very bright. Your brain is probably just brimming with ideas. And you certainly 'know yourself' better than WE do… Nudge, nudge, wink, wink! Say no more. Know what I mean?"

"Exactly!" grins Gabrielle. "So we're putting this little romp into your capable hands. Have fun!" She watches for a brief moment. "That's right, you're getting the hang of it… Uh huh! As our pal Nike, the winged goddess of victory, often says, JUST DO IT! Speaking of which, Xena…"

She grabs her soulmate by the arm, and the two lovers stumble offstage, where they proceed to…




"But wait! There's MORE!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Look, matey, I know a dead parody when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now."

"No no, it's not dead; it's, it's restin'!

"Restin'? It's stone dead!"

"Nononono, no, no! There, it moved!"

"No, it didn't. That was you pushing the page!"

"I never!!"


A shot rings out and a demented soul warped by watching too much Monty Python in her youth slumps lifelessly to the floor. Prying the quill from her fingers, the next bard in line dips it in the inkwell and begins anew:

"It was a dark and stormy night…"

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